


England’s best kept official secret

by SStar



Series: The trials and tribulations of the British Government [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abuse of British politicians, BAMF Mycroft, British Politics, Gen, Mycroft IS the British Government, POV Mycroft Holmes, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:25:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1578401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SStar/pseuds/SStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A follow-up to <b>Performance Review Time</b> and <b>An Instruction in the Proper Use of the English Language</b>. BAMF!Mycroft and Sherlock get to insult another politician!</p>
<p>This time they manage to (accidentally) break the Chancellor of the Exchequer. But that's alright because the man is an arse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	England’s best kept official secret

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: all characters belong to ACD, Moffat, Gattis and the BBC. I own nothing. 
> 
> Unbeta'd, but edited - all mistakes are my very own.

“I **will not** be subject to this indignity!”

“Chancellor!”

“Absolutely, that! I am the Chancellor. You cannot do this to me!”

“Do try to keep your voice down, Chancellor. This is all rather unbecoming,” Mycroft chastised as he threw a disapproving glare at the other man.

“I will shout if I want to!”

“You’re only making this more difficult for yourself.”

The dark-haired politician merely scowled back at him. “I’m not scared of you, Mycroft. Your reputation does not intimidate me.”

His door opened as his Executive Assistant and little brother entered his office, the one he held in Whitehall. The Chancellor was not the kind of person he entertained at his preferred office at the Diogenes. Sherlock slammed the door behind him, ignoring the narrowed-eyed glare his EA threw his way. Mycroft held back his snort of amusement as the politician jumped at the sound.

“You should, you know,” his brother said as he stalked over to Mycroft’s desk.

“Know what?”

“Be scared of Mycroft,” Sherlock clarified. “Most sensible people are.”

“You’re obviously not,” the Chancellor seethed.

Mycroft met Sherlock’s eye roll with his own more covert contemptuous raise of his eyebrow. At the edge of his vision he could see the amused look on Andrea’s face although it was schooled and blank not a split second later.

Sherlock perched himself at the edge of his desk, long legs crossed in front of him. “Why should I? He’s my big brother.”

“I’d heard you had a brother.” The Chancellor paled, was quite an achievement given he was already pale of skin.

Mycroft nodded slowly. “Most of the front benches are aware I have a brother,” he said. “Let me introduce you to my brother, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Consulting Detective.” Sherlock added. “Although to be clear when I must interact with _you people_ then it is usually the Home Secretary. How is she by the way?”

“Home Secre-“

“She’s fine,” Andrea interrupted the Chancellor. “She was asking after you just the other day during Mr Holmes’ monthly meeting with her.”

Sherlock scowled at his brother. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I haven’t seen you since then!”

“You couldn’t call me?” Sherlock batted back. “You’re always on that phone of yours. Not even time for a quick text?”

“I hardly thought it was of such importance to warrant a special phone call.”

“She suggested getting together for tea and biscuits when you and she were both free,” Andrea interjected, ignoring the glare Mycroft threw her. “She invited me along too so I’m happy to arrange it.”

“Wonderful!”

Throughout this entire exchange the Chancellor had sat in his chair, open-mouthed. Mycroft decided to redirect the conversation topic so he could rid himself of the man’s presence as soon as possible. And it had the advantage of distracting Sherlock.

“Perhaps if we could return to the matter at hand? Andrea?”

His EA came forward and handed him and Sherlock a folder each, keeping the last for herself. Although he knew the contents of the file he’d just been handed, he flicked it open again and scanned through the papers. That the wait and lack of folder for the Chancellor appeared to result in a flush creeping up the man’s face was just a simple advantage.

He heard a snort from his right. Sherlock had obviously seen the internal memo which confirmed the Chancellor had been a sign-off to the rather ill-advised poster post-budget announcement. He and his brother had both been subjected to John’s rants on this particular subject.

Sherlock stared at the politician. “You’re really not in touch with normal people, are you?” he said scathingly. “Which coming from me is a statement, I promise you. Do you even know the cost of a pint of milk?”

The Oxford educated man scowled and his posture became more defensive. “How does have any bearing on my position?” he challenged. “I can’t imagine _you_ know the price of milk or bread, or any other basics for that matter!”

Sherlock sneered in reply. “I know the price of cigarettes.”

“That’s not a basic commodity.”

“Depends on your definition. It is in mine.”

Mycroft glared at his brother, making a mental note to check on the details of his brother’s current case. Or cases. “Sherlock,” he said in a warning tone.

“Fine, Mycroft. Why don’t you answer his question then?” Momentarily flustered, Mycroft frowned. “Ha!” Sherlock crowed. “You don’t know either.”

Andrea huffed from her side of the room and she gave all three men, and Mycroft felt himself wince at the look, a pitiless glare. “All of you are idiots, out of touch with normal people, if you excuse the insult, sir,” she said disdainfully to the room at large, although she did throw an apologetic look at Mycroft. “When was the last time any of you went to your local shop to buy a pint of milk?”

She let the silence in the room speak for itself for a long moment. With a roll of her eyes, she provided the answer. “Fifty pence, sixty for organic.”

The Chancellor threw a smug yet condescending look in Andrea’s direction before setting his cool stare upon Mycroft. In turn, Mycroft relaxed his own posture minutely, having deduced the politician’s line of questioning.

“Do you let all your assistants talk back at you, Mycroft?”

Mycroft held back his sigh. How predictable. “If they know the correct answer, then yes,” he replied in a mild tone. “I am of the belief that I should surround myself with smart, competent people who can and feel as though they can state their own opinions. Don’t you do the same?”

The man pulled several facial expressions before settling on haughtiness. “Of course, Mycroft.”

“Well then that’s settled,” Mycroft said. “After all, none of us were able to name the price of milk which makes Andrea the smartest and most grounded of us all. Perhaps now we can get back to the purpose of this meeting.”

“I have no idea why I’ve been called to your office like a small child to be chastised,” the Chancellor started in a heated tone. “And to this office at that! Everyone knows this is just one of your many decoys.”

“Not everyone, Chancellor,” Mycroft corrected. “And unfortunately it has been the small but regular list of errors that has drawn my attention to your … let’s call it a deficit, shall we?”

“In what?”

“Your arithmetic skills I’m afraid, Chancellor.”

“ _Pardon_?”

“Although there is the small matter of the ‘bingo and beer’ advert debacle that appeared on Twitter which perhaps we should discuss at another time,” Mycroft continued, ignoring the other man. “I’m sure that will be an enlightening conversation particularly with the general election only a year away. We won’t be wanting to see such gaffes like that, now will we?”

“The Party chairman took responsibility-“

“Chancellor!” Mycroft rumbled. “Do you take me for an idiot?”

Mycroft ignored the quiet snorts that came from either side of him. Discretion being the best part of valour after all. A quick glance at the Chancellor made it clear the man was sufficiently cowed for the time being.

“Back to the subject of your mathematic skills,” Mycroft started again. “Not only have a couple of esteemed peers expressed some concerns, Chancellor, but stories of your _exploits_ on the shop floor, so to speak, have reached me and I am concerned. You studied one of the humanities at Oxford, did you not?

“Yes, which does not, by default, mean I am incapable of simple arithmetic.”

“Of course not. But there have been some unfortunate incidents that challenge that opinion. There is the small interesting fact one of my people informed me of; that the paper used in the printing of the environmental report on the impact of the HS2 rail scheme was the equivalent of ten trees. The 2013 version. I do hope you’re monitoring the printing budgets of your and your peer’s departments closely. Cost-cutting is all the rage I hear.

“And also eminently fascinating is the modelling debacle surrounding the recent Royal Mail IPO share offer price which, as you well know, is not endearing the government to the people. And may prove to involve some further discussions, perhaps best left to the Prime Minister in the first instance,” Mycroft said. “But I’d like to concentrate on something simpler.”

The Chancellor appeared to be gaining his second wind when he replied. “And what would that be, Mycroft?”

“The new pound coin you announced on the day of the budget.”

“Yes, what of it?”

“How did you describe it?”

“How else but in the simplest of ways for the masses?” the politician said dismissively. “It’s a twelve sided coin.”

“You’re absolutely sure?” Sherlock interjected.

“I can count.” The Chancellor seethed. “All the way to twelve and beyond.”

“So you say,” Sherlock replied dismissively as he rose from his perch and went to hover over the Chancellor. “Did you miss the simple and _obvious_ fact that the coin has, in fact, fourteen sides?”

Andrea moved from Mycroft’s other side and with her _polite_ smile, approached the Chancellor, pulling out a picture of the coin from her own folder and handing it to him.

“Perhaps you’d like a pen so you can count off each side?” Sherlock suggested.

There was a pause as everyone in the office watched the Chancellor silently count the number of sides, up to twelve, before he paused. It took a disturbingly long time, almost eight seconds, for the man to identify the back and front faces of the coin that made up the reminder.

“Finally, he sees it,” Sherlock observed with a dramatic twirl on the spot. “It’s called a dodecagonal coin for future reference.”

“This isn’t maths.”

“I’m afraid it is,” Mycroft corrected. “Geometry is an important aspect of mathematics. I believe properties of polygons is taught at GCSE level. I believe you studied maths to O-level at least.”

Not waiting for an answer, Mycroft continued. “And then there was that hushed up little incident at a school in the Midlands, wasn’t there?”

The Chancellor finally resorted to shouting. “So what? Are you and your _detective_ brother going to teach me _remedial_ mathematics?”

Mycroft smiled. He wished he could employ this particular smile on more occasions but it tended not to lead to good outcomes. For other people. “You have managed to pre-empt me, Chancellor.”

The politician sat back in his seat and laughed. “You seriously can’t think _you_ can teach me mathematics.”

“Teach? Perhaps not, but ensure you have the foundations. Why not?”

“For starters on what basis are you and your brother, or your assistant, qualified to teach me maths?” he challenged back. “I’ve seen your records. None of you studied mathematics.”

“Sherlock and I are well versed in the subject,” Mycroft countered. “We had no need to study the subject at any advanced levels.”

“I beg to disagree.”

“For god’s sake,” Sherlock interrupted, his patience having been worn out. “My mother, _our mother_ , taught us mathematics – all elements of pure, mechanics, statistics – up to graduate level.”

“Impossible,” the Chancellor growled. “There’s no records of that!”

Mycroft exchanged an amused look with Sherlock although he maintained his bland expression when the Chancellor looked at him, even in the face of Sherlock’s predatory look. “Of course there are no records of our mother or her accomplishments in the government’s records. She, and our father are an Official Secret.”

His mouth twitched, minutely, when the politician let out an undignified snort. “Official secrets?” the Chancellor repeated weakly as his face slackened with surprise.

“Obviously,” Andrea replied before Mycroft could. “A man of ... men like the two Mr Holmes are subject to the highest levels of security. Higher than your own I’m afraid, Chancellor.”

“But I’m the Chancellor!”

“I’m sure our security committee will be pleased to know their standards stand up to the scrutiny of members of the Cabinet,” Mycroft continued, ignoring the politician’s comment on his perceived importance. “Let’s share the update at the next meeting, Andrea, if you could make a note.”

“Of course.”

“They’re _both_ official secrets?”

Sherlock strode back towards Mycroft. This time leaning against the wall, next to the portrait of the Queen. “I think you broke the man,” he observed.

Mycroft hummed.

“Such a shame. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer man.”

“Perhaps a cup of tea will reboot him? After all, we should allow him to gain some wits about him if he’s to undertake the test at the end of his _remedial_ lesson,” Mycroft commented, turning in his seat to look at Sherlock. “After all, I’m sure you and I both have better things to do than to pass on what Mummy taught us before we were ten.”

“Basic maths?” Andrea asked with a grin, although her gaze was fixed on the pale-faced, shaking politician.

“We were starting the mathematics A-level curriculum at around that age,” Sherlock corrected gleefully. “Although Mycroft always bragged at how he managed to get to each stage before I did at his age. Still, we were advanced in mathematics compared to other subjects. Mother was very thorough in making sure we understood it all.”

Mycroft, Sherlock and Andrea prudently ignored the choked noises coming from the Chancellor.

**Author's Note:**

> This came about because my personal headcanon has Mycroft protecting his parents (since he'd obviously have enemies) by making them official secrets and then encouraging them to travel the world. 
> 
> His old friend would have been more than happy to help ;-)


End file.
